


but just think about Spider-man III

by BeccabooO1O



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Airports, Bellarke, Canonical Character Death, Clarke pov, Drabble, ENOUGH WITH THE TAGS, F/M, First Meetings, I Blame Tumblr, Modern AU, Sorry Not Sorry, Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt, about that one, alternative meetings, and clarke is down to fight literally anybody at this point, bellamy is an instigator, delayed flights, exploitation of the spiderman franchise, trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:37:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeccabooO1O/pseuds/BeccabooO1O
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I try not to.” She wasn’t lying. She couldn’t stand that cinematic failure. She had spent most of the movie huddled in the ladies bathroom at the theater, hoping to erase the traumatic experience from her mind. (aka the 'stuck in an airport at like two in the morning because my flight's been delayed for forever and I will murder the next airport staff member who tells me to calm down' au that nobody really asked for)</p>
            </blockquote>





	but just think about Spider-man III

**Author's Note:**

> 'Stuck in an airport because the flights are so very delayed and it’s like 2am AU from tumblr' is the actual au prompt... so sorry

“You have to be fucking kidding me right now!”

She could not believe this right now. They could not be fucking serious right now.

She had to get to Ark. Like yesterday - which in actuality, she would be on a plane by yesterday if everything had gone according to plan. But no, Mother Nature had to take things into her own hands and fucked Clarke over with a two hour delay that had turned into a four hour delay around eleven.

At night.

And two measly hours could be added to that delay at any time.

One had to be completely shitting her.

It was two fucking o’clock in the goddamn morning and Clarke just wanted to be fitfully asleep in one of those plane seats that she may never see - if the too perky airport staff were truly telling the truth - instead of pacing the walkway in front of the gate, her now lukewarm coffee sloshing against the sides of the styrofoam cup.

She was about to start another lap around the couple rows of seats when a deep voice called out, “You mind sitting down? You’re giving me a headache.”

Her head whipped around to the offending sound. Another guy  - maybe a little older that Clarke -  was sprawled out across one of the seats, looking up at her haughtily from where he was.

She did sit down.

Right next to him, to be exact.

“That wasn’t too hard, now was it, Princess?” He commented as she set her carry-on bag down on the empty seat next to her.

She could not believe this.

Of course she had to be stuck with an asshole until god knows when.

Maybe she should have just taken the bus - it’d take longer than the flight itself, but she’d at least be home at a decent hour. And the number of pretentious pricks that she’d have to deal with would have been diminished to practically nothing. Plus she wouldn’t have to listen to overly perky flight attendants - or whatever the hell they were called - ‘advising’ her to calm down and have a seat.

Yet a little voice in Clarke’s head - one that sounded so much like her mother - told her that she had made her own decisions and now she had to follow through with them.

Speaking of her mother, what Clarke would give to see the look on the older woman’s face when she told her mother that she wouldn’t be able to make it until morning. The thought of that expression almost took her mind off of the real reason as to why she was going home to Ark.

For a while, at least.

“You alright there, Princess?” Was that concern in his voice? And why the hell was he calling her Princess?

“Don’t call me that.” Was all she said. All she could say.

“So the Princess does talk.” Came the answer - his voice back to it’s light bantering tone.

She just wasn’t in the mood for it. “Did you hear what I just said?” Clarke did look over at him. And she regretted it as soon as she did.

Why did all the assholes she dealt with have to be unfairly attractive as well? It just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that her fingers were just itching to try to capture every little detail with a stick of charcoal and a piece of paper. From his dark eyes and matching dark hair to the corded muscles shifting under his shirt - hell, even the freckles that were spattered on his tanned face screamed at her to memorize them as if they were the answers to everything she had been doubting lately.

And it definitely wasn’t fair.

“Was it worth listening to?” He was smirking, showing off a set of pearly white teeth.

_You have got to be fucking kidding me_. She rolled her eyes. Why couldn’t she have caught the attention of a nice person for once? She looked away from the asshole and pulled out her laptop, hoping she could kill some time with a movie - before she couldn’t fight the desire to kill the guy next to her.

She thought maybe he’d get the hint and leave her alone.

“You know, Tobey Maguire is such a better Spider-man.” His voice sounded through her earbuds.

Was he unable to pick up on the most basic social cues or something?

“Care to repeat that?” She paused _The Amazing Spider-Man_ to listen to what he could possibly say to prove his point. Seriously, she was just getting to the whole ‘chocolate’ incident - probably one of her favorite parts of the movie - couldn’t this guy at least wait until she was finished with the goddamn movie to pick a fight with her?

“Maguire is better.”

“In what universe, exactly?” He wasn’t serious, was he?

“This one, obviously.” He chuckled self assuredly.

She looked at him in disbelief. “Bullshit. Garfield’s the one who helped people before he even had superpowers.”

“And that interpretation of the ‘professional wallflower’ gives Garfield’s transition from Peter to Spider-man less of an impact than-”

“But that doesn’t make Garfield any less of a hero.” She interrupted, growing irritated. “And Maguire’s take on Peter’s social standing makes him pitiful.”

“And how do you figure that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Let’s see,” Clarke started. “Relying on your few friends to fight your petty battles and solve your problems for you because you can’t do them yourself? Pretty pathetic.” He rolled his eyes. “Instead of just the social outcast, Maguire became the true loser - with the teasing from the other kids and the always iconic ‘chasing the bus’ scene.” She remembered talking about the pros and cons of each _Spider-Man_ movie with her dad whenever it came into conversation, so she could re-use a lot of the things used back then to help her now.

“At least Maguire’s is funny.” Clarke had to consciously decide _against_ kicking her sneaker off and throwing it at him.

“As if.” Clarke scoffed. “Garfield’s at least made an effort to be witty. And not just with the one liners during the final battles.” She added.

“Maguire’s is a better fighter during those final battles.” He pointed out. She chose to ignore that sadly valid fact.

“At least you know that Garfield’s is smart.”

“Take that back, Princess.”

“Like I said before,” She smirked. “Relying on your friends for everything is pathetic.” She paused. “And you cannot tell me that Garfield’s montages of him tinkering with stuff and geeking out with Dr. Connors don’t make you want to start learning about different formulas and genetic research.”

“But just think about _Spider-man III_.”

“I try not to.” She wasn’t lying. She couldn’t stand that cinematic failure. She had spent most of the movie huddled in the ladies bathroom at the theater, hoping to erase the traumatic experience from her mind.

“You can’t tell me-”

“That it is a terrible excuse for a movie? I can and I just did.” She paused. “And don’t ever speak about it to me again. Ever.” She pointed a finger at him, daring him to talk more.

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad,” He tried.

“I got secondhand embarrassment just from watching it. If anything, the jazz montage was the best part.”

“But-”

“No.” Clarke cut him off and his eyes narrowed in response.

“Are you always like this, Princess?”

“I told you not to call me that!”

“Why?” He asked, goading her. “Does it get under your skin?”

She would never tell him that it actually did bother her. That she was aware of the privileged life she had growing up. That she never had too many people to count on because everyone was either intimidated of her or wanted to be around her for the perks of being friends with the daughter of a family at the top of the Elite. And that she hated it. Because him knowing meant that the prick would win. And Clarke didn’t give up that easily.

“In your dreams..” _Nice rebuttal, Clarke_. Where did that come from, the seventh grade?

“You wish.” At least his comment was no less juvenile than hers was.

Clarke found little comfort in that.

But she did continue to glare daggers into him, willing the dick to flinch as if she could pierce him with just her gaze.

Everything between the two was broken when one of airport staff members announced that the flight was finally ready to be boarded.

Clarke hastily packed up her things and started for the table in front of the gate.

“My name’s Bellamy, by the way.” The guys said from behind her. “In case you needed a name to match the face in _your_ dreams tonight.”

She just made an irritated noise and stomped through the terminal.

Clarke hoped that she would never have to see him again.

So anyone could understand her surprise - and the exponentially rising urge to throw her black stiletto - when she looked up from her pale hands that contrasted too much to her dark attire and made eye contact with Bellamy Blake in the crowd of fellow mourners at her best friend’s funeral.

**Author's Note:**

> You have been cordially invited to cry with my on my [tumblr](http://livelaughloveboo.tumblr.com)
> 
> Remember to Smile :)  
> ~Becca


End file.
